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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500354">Care You've Shown Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish'>what_a_dork_fish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ableism, Alternate Universe - Nanny, Angst, Autistic Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Baby Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Falling In Love, Gen, Hospitals, It started cute and then it went bad.... oof, M/M, Minor Violence, Nanny Jaskier, Panic Attacks, Poverty, he's a good dude okay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:20:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt has been turned away from every daycare, and he's getting desperate to find someone who can care for Ciri while he searches for work.</p>
<p>He didn't expect a one-night stand to show up at his doorstep.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Wasn't Quite Expecting This (But I Loved It)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Geralt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The first part was a commission, thus the sweet, and the second part was me going all out with the Feels and Drama. Still! I hope it's good!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt did not know what to expect regarding the nanny he had contacted. He had been open to it being anyone, as long as they weren’t a creep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would never in a million years have expected his one-night-stand for two days ago to end up on his doorstep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt and Jaskier stared at each other, equally stunned. Finally, Jaskier cleared his throat and said lamely, “So you’re the Mr. Rivia who emailed me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Geralt got out stiffly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daa-ddyyyy!” Ciri wailed from the living room. “Hungry!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt grimaced and rubbed his forehead. “Please come in,” he said with no enthusiasm. “I have to get Ciri her lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier nodded and followed him inside the small townhouse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri was stomping inside her pen, making frustrated noises. As soon as Geralt lifted her out, she beamed and threw her arms around his neck. “Hungry!” she yelled again, right in his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, love,” Geralt agreed, rubbing her back soothingly as he took her to the kitchen. “What would you like for lunch today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ramen!” Ciri squealed, bouncing in his arms and tugging his hair. Geralt didn’t even flinch. He was used to it by now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he put Ciri in the high chair, started the ramen, and only remembered Jaskier when Ciri asked, “Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Julian,” Jaskier replied. “And you are?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ciri. That’s my daddy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I noticed!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt’s mouth tightened as Jaskier and Ciri chatted. They were already on their way to being friends. Not good. If he decided not to hire Jaskier, Ciri would be upset and cry. But it would be better to not hire him. Right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been a very good night when he shared Jaskier’s bed. He’d especially liked how Jaskier had--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt swallowed hard and poured in the ramen noodles. They had both decided to end it there. It was a bad idea to let Jaskier stick around. He was too… bright, and loud, and frankly annoying. It didn’t matter that his terrible flirting was entertaining, or that he was a great singer, or that he obviously knew how to befriend children. Geralt would probably get pissed enough to throw him out in a week.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri crowed with laughter and Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. She hadn’t laughed like that for anyone other than Geralt since Yennefer left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With his heart sufficiently aching from Ciri’s excitement, Geralt turned away from the stove and walked to the table. Jaskier was already teaching her that stupid song about the spider and the water spout, and how to move her hands to the words. They were both grinning, as Ciri tried to sing along. Geralt wanted to say something, but she was happy, so he got a juicebox from the fridge and set it in reach for her, then retreated to the counter to watch them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you like ramen?” Ciri asked Jaskier, her green eyes wide with fascination.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” Jaskier replied, still smiling. “It’s one of my favorite foods.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s mine too!” Ciri said gleefully, waving her arms and knocking over the juicebox. Geralt lunged and caught it, and set it on the tray of the highchair again. “I like chicken ramen best! Daddy makes the best chicken ramen!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier glanced over to Geralt, looking thoroughly amused. Geralt reddened in embarrassment. “That’s wonderful, wee,” Jaskier told Ciri. “Do you eat it often?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Every day!” Ciri crowed proudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier’s smile faded a little, but then he brightened it again. “Wow, it must be really good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt looked down at the floor to hide his shamed expression. It was a good thing Ciri liked ramen, cold cereal, and canned soup; Geralt hadn’t had the money to buy fresh food since the lawyers stripped Geralt of his income from Vesemir’s estate. Unemployment payments were barely enough to pay the mortgage, the utilities, and Ciri’s diapers. Anything extra came from odd jobs around the city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he simply could not afford to leave Ciri alone, not when he needed to find a full-time job, and none of the daycare centers would accept a child of a Witcher. So--a nanny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri and Jaskier kept talking, and Geralt kept feeling more and more horrible, as Ciri told Jaskier all about her and Geralt’s playing every day except the days after he drank too much, and visiting Lambert and Eskel for dinner (they had insisted on at least feeding them, though Geralt refused their financial help), and her mommy sending her presents in the mail. At least, Daddy said they were from her mommy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt turned away at that point. The presents were not from Yennefer. They were what he could buy with scraped-up savings. He didn’t want Ciri to think Yenn had abandoned her, and to never remember her fondly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ramen was done. He drained it, put half a packet of seasoning in, and brought it to Ciri, along with her favorite spork. She squealed in delight and immediately began eating. Geralt’s stomach ached. Fuck, had she been hungry all morning? Was that day’s breakfast not enough? They didn’t have much cereal left, and he wasn’t sure he could afford more when the next check came in, oh fuck, he was going to have another panic attack--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please slow down, love,” Geralt managed to say, stroking Ciri’s hair gently. “You’ll hurt yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri grumbled, but slowed. Geralt sat at the table across from Jaskier, and waited for the reprimands. Everyone reprimanded him when they got to know how he was raising Ciri. It was why he never told anyone about her unless pressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was shaking. His chest hurt, especially his lungs. Why did he feel so light-headed?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Jaskier said, breaking through Geralt’s fearful thoughts. “I’m assuming the interview can happen now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, absolutely not. Jaskier should leave, and swear not to report Geralt for neglect. Instead of saying that, Geralt nodded mutely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Innervu?” Ciri asked with her mouth full.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An interview is where a person asks another questions, usually about their work,” Jaskier told her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But Daddy doesn’t work,” Ciri replied, confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier’s face flickered sadness before he shut that emotion away. “No, he’s going to ask me questions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhh.” Ciri nodded wisely and continued eating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt swallowed hard. Questions. He’d had a list of questions, hadn’t he? On his phone? He pulled his phone out of his pocket and navigated through his various note and writing apps until he found the one where he kept questions for professionals like doctors and lawyers. There, the list for the nanny. He opened it and slid it across the table to Jaskier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier picked it up and read the first question out loud. “Do you have education related to caring for children? Actually, yes, my major in college was childcare. I’ve kept up to date on research and techniques, especially for younger children. How long have you been a nanny? About eight years, now; the first child was about ten and was sent to boarding school a year later, and the second child was a pair of twins. They were delightful, but I have very little training for special needs children, so I pointed their parents towards one of my colleagues who is trained. Do you know sign language? A little. I can converse in it, but I’m not an expert.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt listened hard as Jaskier worked down the list of questions, and grudgingly decided that Jaskier was a good enough fit. There were probably better nannies, but Geralt would never be able to afford them. So, when Jaskier handed the phone back, Geralt nodded and forced himself to say, “Good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daddy,” Ciri said suddenly, putting her spork down and reaching for him. “Breathe-hugs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt obediently stood and picked her up, and hugged her tightly, facing away from Jaskier a little. Breathe-hugs. He kept forgetting his breathing exercises, but hugging Ciri helped him remember to calm down. This was only the fourth time that she had offered breathe-hugs before he thought of them. It made him feel terrible, that he leaned on her so much. But she was also the only thing still holding him to this shitty world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shouldn’t use his daughter as an anchor. He really shouldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After several deep breaths, he was calm enough to put her down again, and sit. He swallowed hard and said, “Thank you for answering my questions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier was frowning slightly. “You’re very welcome,” he replied. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt nodded. “Do you have questions?” he asked, hands tightening on his elbows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, a few. Do you have any kind of steady income?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Geralt said. “I get my unemployment check every month.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier pursed his lips and frowned more. Then he asked cautiously, “How much will you be out of the house?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… don’t know,” Geralt confessed. “I’m starting an internship on Monday, but I’m still not sure if I have a schedule yet.” That pained him worse than knowing the position was given to him out of pity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paid internship?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Jaskier tapped his finger on the table and bit his lip, then nodded firmly. “Well! I think we’ll suit well enough. What do you think, sir?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt blinked, then blurted, “I do too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excellent.” Jaskier beamed at him. “I’ll be by tomorrow morning to start.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was three weeks later and Geralt was a wreck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier had started right out with telling Geralt that penning Ciri for most of the day was a terrible idea, and then showed him how to childproof the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pens are fine if you’re trying to train a puppy,” Jaskier explained, “But children aren’t puppies. She needs room. She needs to explore the house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My father put me in a pen,” Geralt said hesitantly. “I turned out fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier gave him an unimpressed look. “Nevertheless, Ciri isn’t you. Give her space to play.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri hadn’t known what to do without her pen, until Jaskier convinced her to play hide-and-seek. Then they had both run all over the house, hiding and laughing and exploring. Geralt’s heart was in his mouth the whole time, as he tried to make sure Ciri was safe and unhurt. The pen had been as much to keep her safe as it was meant to keep her where Geralt could find her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, Jaskier went through the kitchen and declared that he was going to buy some frozen food and fresh veggies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those are expensive,” Geralt blurted, alarmed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier shook his head. “Not all of them. Bring Ciri, and I’ll show you the good deals.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt did not have a car safe enough to drive Ciri in. The one he used to drive was on its last legs, and so he usually either begged a ride from Eskel or took the bus with her. Jaskier frowned a little, and asked, “How long have you had that car?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt shrugged. “About twenty years,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So they took the bus, and Jaskier let Ciri sit in his lap and play with his necklace, which held a silver pendant shaped like a lute, with gold designs inlaid on it. They talked about animals, and Geralt kept his head down. The shame from being stared at like he was some sort of creep for having a daughter still roiled in his gut and made him nauseous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grocery shopping was strange, because Jaskier kept pointing out things that were cheap and Geralt had to tell him, over and over, in front of other people, “I only have fifty crowns, I can’t afford to spend it on only one week of food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier somehow negotiated him into buying some potatoes, and wretchedness settled on Geralt when he realized he wouldn’t have enough money to buy Ciri a present for two or three months. She had plenty of toys, though, surely she wouldn’t mind?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daddy, why are you sad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt hugged Ciri closer and kissed her forehead. “I’m not sad, love.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The internship was more draining than any other job he’d ever had. Everything was too loud, too fast, too hot, too much--but he had to do this. He had to be hired. Because he needed money for Ciri.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier kept Ciri company, and taught her songs, and bought her workbooks with her favorite cartoon characters. Most evenings, Geralt showered, changed clothes, and then slumped wherever they were and watched. It hurt, honestly, that she was so much happier with Jaskier. But, well, Jaskier was a better person in general.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then on the third week of everything, Geralt completely broke down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was while he was making dinner. His nerveless fingers dropped the butter and the spoon, his knees buckled, and when he was crouched on the floor, rocking on his toes, he let himself whimper a little. He could not cry; he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> cry in front of Ciri. She didn’t deserve to see him be weak like this. But gods, he wanted to sleep, sleep forever, vanish from this planet and become nothing, so he would never feel or hurt or cry or disappoint or scare again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A large, warm hand settled gently on his back. “You can go lay down,” Jaskier said gently beside him. “I can finish dinner. Go lay down, Geralt. It’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Geralt went to his room, and shut the door and laid down and let himself sob. Worthless, useless, couldn’t even keep a fucking internship long enough to be hired--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes it was late at night. He sniffed, wiped his scratchy eyes, and got out of bed. Maybe there were some leftovers in the fridge. Probably not. Ciri had been eating so much lately, and her energy had gone through the roof. Geralt had to keep cutting down on his own portion so she would have enough. Was that why he was so exhausted and achey lately?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he reached the kitchen, he blinked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier was at the table with a laptop, looking grim. He had papers all over the table, and a thick notepad that he wrote in every few seconds. He looked up at Geralt in the doorway, and managed a tired smile. “Hey,” he whispered. “There’s food in the fridge. Ciri wanted to leave everything, but I convinced her to eat some.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt nodded and got the leftover soup and fried potatoes out of the fridge, not even bothering to heat them up before spooning some into a bowl and sitting down at the other side of the table to eat. He hurt. But because he wanted noise, any noise, to keep his thoughts away from the evil place in his head, he looked up at Jaskier and asked, “What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Researching unemployment laws,” Jaskier answered, tapping a few keys and then scribbling on his notepad. “It’s illegal to pay you so little when you have a child. Did you know you’re supposed to get two thousand crowns a month?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt gaped at him. “Whuh… the lawyers told me I could only have eight hundred,” he replied, feeling another surge of confusion and self-hate boil up in his chest. “Because my brothers have jobs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier looked up sharply, and he looked livid. “They were basing their calculations on your brothers’ incomes?” he demanded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt flinched, and nodded. “They--they have custody of me,” he explained. “Because a judge ordered when I was nineteen that I have to have a guardian.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Jaskier’s turn to gape. Then he asked, much more gently, “If they are your guardians, why don’t you live with them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because…” Geralt frowned, trying to remember. “Because the homeowner’s association forbade my brothers from taking me in. So they gave me money to buy this house, and moved to a new apartment. But when I bought the house, some attorneys came by and claimed I was violating court orders, so they took my inheritance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s illegal!” Jaskier burst out, aghast. “Why would they do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt’s head was pounding and his breath was getting shorter. He didn’t like thinking about that year. He didn’t like it all. It was a clusterfuck of despair and confusion and terror and he didn’t want to think of it. “I don’t know,” he said, and his voice shook. “I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier opened his mouth to say something else, then thought better of it, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Geralt,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pried. But now we have some idea of what to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you’re being discriminated against, mistreated, and refused the help you need. So.” Jaskier steepled his fingers and grinned, eyes glinting fiercely. “We’re going to tear these fuckers apart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A year later, Geralt hated the memories of the confusion and rage of dealing with laws and lawyers and people casually threatening to take Ciri away from him if he didn’t shut up and go away. He hated them with the fury of the planet’s molten core.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But outcomes had been good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His payments were raised to the legal amount. He was allowed to go to therapy and job training without being threatened. Ciri had new clothes and a new bed and new favorite foods. And Jaskier was not annoying anymore. On the contrary, he had become something much, much better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier was still only the nanny. But Geralt had a plan, and it involved the engagement ring he bought on the one-year anniversary of hiring Jaskier.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Jaskier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh my god I forgot I didn't post this. Oh my god. Oh I am so sorry everyone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier almost sobbed when Geralt asked Jaskier to marry him; not because he loved Geralt, but because he wasn’t sure if Geralt meant it.</p><p>Of course Geralt would be grateful to Jaskier. But was he mistaking that gratefulness for love? It had happened before; people asking Jaskier to marry them just because they felt a duty to. Such engagements had never gone well.</p><p>The difference was, he wanted to say yes this time.</p><p>He swallowed hard, and said softly, “Can… can I think on it?”</p><p>Geralt nodded and tucked the box back in his pocket. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sorry I upset you.”</p><p>Jaskier shook his head. “I’m not upset, just--a little overwhelmed, right now.”</p><p>Ciri, who had just walked into the living room where they were sitting on the sofa, saw Jaskier’s face and ran to him, scrambling into his lap and hugging him. “It’s okay, Jaskier,” she said soothingly. “You can cry.”</p><p>Jaskier had to smile, and hugged her back. “Thanks, dearheart.”</p><p>Dinner was not as tense or awkward as Jaskier expected. Geralt cooked, Jaskier set the table, and Ciri tried to help them both. Jaskier shook his head at Ciri’s pleading to help with the pan-searing. He’d already had to scold Geralt for letting her stir boiling liquid with her tiny, clumsy little hands. The man simply did not understand children.</p><p>Or… maybe he did. Maybe he was just trying to let her feel included in cooking. Would they like baking? That might be fun. He could just imagine them both covered in flour and food coloring, Geralt dismayed and Ciri laughing…</p><p>No. He dragged his mind away from such thoughts. There was no point thinking such domestic things when Geralt had asked him to marry and he’d stalled. Yes, it was nice to imagine living with them as a husband and father, but he wasn’t ready.</p><p>They all ate, and talked and laughed, and Jaskier read a book to Ciri afterwards and Geralt picked her up gently when she dozed off to take her upstairs and put her to bed. Jaskier bit his lip and wondered if he should keep thinking tonight… no, there was no point. He’d just scare himself more. Better to go to bed, and think in the morning.</p><p>As he stepped into his room, he had a horrible thought. How could he continue working as a nanny if he was married and had a stepchild of his own? How would he support himself and his family? Maybe he could go back to teaching? Would Ciri mind a daycare?</p><p>Actually, it would be very good for her to go to a place with other people. She should have contact with other children.</p><p>Jaskier shook his head hard and got ready for bed. He should not think of these things when he needed to sleep. He could think about them in the morning.</p><p>But he couldn’t turn his brain off. He thought about jobs and childcare and Geralt in recovery and laws about guardianship and whether Geralt’s family would accept him or not--oh so many things racing through his brain. He couldn’t sleep until one in the morning.</p><p>~</p><p>When he woke, it was to Ciri’s laughter from downstairs. There were a lot of books and blogs that talked about how a child’s laugh was the most wonderful sound; Jaskier wondered if those people had ever been woken up by a pounding headache due to a bad night and a child laughing raucously. Jaskier got out of bed sluggishly, decided not to put on day-clothes, and walked out of his room in his baggy flannel pajama pants and MCR t-shirt. The shirt was a little small, but he really didn’t care.</p><p>Jaskier was not thinking at all when he stumbled into the kitchen, went straight to Geralt at the counter, and thumped his forehead down on Geralt’s shoulder.</p><p>“Um,” Geralt said.</p><p>“Uuugh,” Jaskier groaned in reply.</p><p>“Jaskier needs maple syrup too!” Ciri yelled, and Jaskier winced. So much noise. He wanted to lay down again, but it was his job to be up and alert. He was failing that quite badly, but Geralt’s shoulder was warm and he smelled good.</p><p>Jaskier realized this was extremely unprofessional. But Geralt didn’t mind. So surely it was okay.</p><p>Pancakes were finished, and Geralt gently pushed Jaskier to the table. Jaskier grumbled but sat down with a mug of coffee and tried to wake up.</p><p>“What’s happening today, Daddy?” Ciri asked Geralt, pouring way too much syrup on her pancakes.</p><p>Geralt shrugged. “I have to go to my job interview,” he explained, “And then I’ll pick up some carryout for dinner. Jaskier?”</p><p>Jaskier took another sip of coffee. “Maybe another trip to the park?” he asked Ciri. “Fresh air will do us both good.”</p><p>Ciri’s face lit up, and she cheered, “Yes!”</p><p>Jaskier escaped to the bathroom while Geralt played with Ciri, and took a long, warm shower, sighing in relief as his achy body relaxed. Now if he just had someone to wash his back and hair for him, this would be the perfect shower.</p><p>His mind flashed to Geralt’s rough fingers running lightly over his skin, in his hair; the warmth of Geralt standing at his back, breath quiet but hot on the back of Jaskier’s neck; pressing flush together and Geralt burying his teeth in Jaskier’s shoulder--</p><p>Jaskier lurched back to the present, and hastily scrubbed himself down, ignoring his stupid semi. This was the fourth time he’d had such thoughts and it was highly unprofessional. Geralt was his employer--although it felt more like friendship every day, and indeed, Jaskier had insisted that Geralt not pay him during the legal battles. But still. It felt… <em> wrong </em>.</p><p>Shame made his semi go down and made his headache come back. But he was clean, so there wasn’t much point in staying hidden. He sighed heavily and turned off the water, shivering as his body cooled, and got out of the shower--just in time for Ciri to bang on the bathroom door and yell, “JASKIERRRR DADDY’S GONE, CAN WE GO TO THE PARK NOW?”</p><p>“Just a moment, dear one,” Jaskier called back, hurrying to dry off and put on clean clothes. He had already had the experience of an impatient Ciri bursting into the bathroom while he was still naked. She didn’t do it to Geralt; only Jaskier.</p><p>She groaned dramatically and stomped her foot, but did not barge in or yell more. Jaskier finished dressing, tossed his towel in the hamper, and opened the door. Ciri was pouting magnificently, but when Jaskier crouched to pick her up, she immediately held up her arms and snuggled close as he rose.</p><p>“Can you be my mommy?” she asked, as Jaskier carried her to her room. “Since I already have a daddy?”</p><p>Jaskier’s face burned, but he laughed lightly and set her down on her bed before going to her dresser and searching for outdoor clothes, since she couldn’t wander around outside in just her nightie. “I suppose,” he answered, picking out a pair of purple jeans. “I don’t really mind. Do you want to wear these today?”</p><p>“I want to wear the froggies!”</p><p>Jaskier smiled for real and put the purple jeans back, taking out the denim overalls with the frog embroidery. “As your highness wishes,” he teased, and Ciri giggled.</p><p>As a five-year-old, she wasn’t very adept at putting her own clothes on, but she tried very hard, so Jaskier let her. She got it right most of the time, after all. And she should learn independence when she could; Jaskier wouldn’t be around forever.</p><p>Why did that make his heart hurt?</p><p>When she was prepared, Jaskier grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone, filled up Ciri’s blue water bottle covered in My Little Pony stickers, and followed her out of the house.</p><p>The walk to the park was peaceful, if one didn’t count the old man who came out of his house waving a rifle and threatened to shoot Jaskier for the crime of taking care of a child not his own. Ciri ignored the old man. Jaskier did as well, mostly. He’d been threatened and hurt too many times to drop his guard around such people.</p><p>The park was full of children, perhaps a school trip; they all seemed to be first or second graders. Ciri gasped in delight and tugged on Jaskier’s sleeve. “Mommy, can I go play?” she begged, swinging off his arm.</p><p>Jaskier smiled. “Yes, of course, love. Tell me when you want to leave. I’ll be by the tree.”</p><p>Ciri squealed and shot off to the playground. Jaskier watched for a few moments, then went to the big tree he claimed whenever they came here. There was no one under the shade of its limbs, so he slouched against its trunk and watched as Ciri clambered all over the playground equipment and tried to make friends. A few of the older children were kind to her, but most ignored her. Jaskier frowned worriedly. How was she going to form a positive opinion of others if she was ignored? He should really convince Geralt to send her to daycare.</p><p>His heart lurched. Sending her to daycare would mean dismissing Jaskier.</p><p>Slowly, Ciri’s excitement turned to desperation, as the other children got rougher, pushing her around and not caring that she was smaller and couldn’t fend them off. Jaskier straightened and took a step forward, thinking that he might as well step in and take Ciri home--</p><p>Some horrid little boy in a red polo shirt and expensive jeans shoved Ciri off the platform that was open to the pole.</p><p>Jaskier’s world turned into glue. He saw Ciri fall--he felt himself lurch into a run--but he wasn’t fast enough, he just wasn’t. She hit the ground, and screamed. There was something wrong with her wrist.</p><p>The world snapped into place again when Jaskier landed on his knees beside Ciri and put his arm around her protectively, barely noticing the children who had drawn back and were staring. “Let me see, love,” he murmured, holding out his hand. “Let me see what hurts.”</p><p>She raised her arm, weeping hysterically. There was a piece of bone sticking out of her wrist, which was not working properly at all. Jaskier went cold, and kissed her head before picking her up. “It’s alright love, I’ll call an ambulance. You’ll be alright. I know it hurts--”</p><p>Something heavy and hard edged smashed into the side of his head, and Ciri screamed in terror. Jaskier stumbled, but kept his balance, and turned just in time for the thing to smash into his face and break his nose.</p><p>“You kidnapper!” shrieked the lady who had swung her heavy purse at him. “How dare you grab a child not your own!”</p><p>“He’s my mommy!” Ciri yelled back, tears and snot dripping down her face. “He’s my mommy, not a kidnapper!”</p><p>Jaskier’s head stopped spinning long enough for him to gasp out, “Excuse me,” and try to walk to the parking lot.</p><p>“DELILAH, NO!”</p><p>The purse hit the back of his neck, hard, and he bit his lip so hard he thought the skin might split. He kept walking, and Ciri kept crying, and the chaperones kept yelling at each other.</p><p>Finally, they reached the parking lot. Jaskier set Ciri on one of the large rocks delineating the edge of the park, and fumbled out his phone, dialing emergency services with shaking hands.</p><p>“Hello, this is Medical Services, what is your emergency?”</p><p>“My daughter’s wrist is broken,” he explained, not even bothering to try and explain nannying. “She was pushed off the playground equipment and landed on her hand. We’re at Vengerburg Park, east side.”</p><p>“Alright, sending an ambulance to your location. Please keep her hand and arm supported, and do not try to set it yourself.”</p><p>“Yes, of course. Thank you.”</p><p>“Do you want to stay on the line while you wait?”</p><p>Jaskier thought about it, then said, “Yes, thank you.”</p><p>“Alright. The ambulance should be there in ten minutes. What does the break look like?”</p><p>Jaskier described it as well as he could when he was so woozy, and tried to soothe Ciri. Shock had caught up with her, and her crying was less hysterical and more mechanical. Jaskier kept her arm straight, and when the ambulance came, he carried her to the medics. Then her tears freshened, and she shrieked, “NO! No, I don’t want to leave mommy!”</p><p>“I’m her mommy,” Jaskier explained quickly. “Is there room for me in the ambulance?”</p><p>The medic who had reached for Ciri pursed his lips, then said, “Yes. You have a broken nose and a probable concussion, based on your eyes and coloring, so you should come too.”</p><p>Jaskier nodded and flinched as his neck protested, but stepped into the van with the medics and Ciri, and tucked himself into a corner, trying to make himself as small as possible. Ciri’s sobbing trailed off into sniffles, and when they gave her a painkiller, she sighed.</p><p>Jaskier wondered how Geralt would feel about his daughter being in the hospital.</p><p>~</p><p>The answer to that was ‘extremely fucking pissed’.</p><p>Jaskier had been put in a separate room from Ciri, which they had both protested; but maybe that was better, because Geralt’s fierce growl outside his door, telling the nurses to let him see Jaskier, was rather frightening.</p><p>Geralt was let in, of course, and immediately walked over to Jaskier and touched his hair, looking both furious and devastated. “What happened?” he asked. “I talked to Ciri, but…”</p><p>Jaskier tried to smile. “She was pushed off the playground equipment,” he slurred; they had given him the kind of drugs that made him floaty and only half in the world. “When I picked her up, a woman hit me because she thought I was kidnapping Ciri. I didn’t think I had a concussion, but the doctor said so.”</p><p>Geralt’s mouth tightened, and the tips of his fingers slid down to rest on Jaskier’s cheek. “How long until you’re released?” he asked softly.</p><p>“Oh, probably about a week,” Jaskier said hazily. “I’ll be fine, though. Is Ciri alright?”</p><p>“She’s sleeping,” Geralt told him, “But the nurse said she’ll be able to recover quickly. Something about young bones.”</p><p>Jaskier nodded. Then he asked, because he wasn’t sure if this was an elaborate daydream, “Did you mean it? When you proposed?”</p><p>Geralt looked confused. “Of course I meant it,” he replied. “Why?”</p><p>Jaskier hummed, eyes closing. “Ciri calls me her mommy now. It’d be nice for her to have two parents, no?” He sighed and murmured, “And I like you a lot, too.”</p><p>Geralt ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “Yes,” he croaked. “That would be nice.”</p><p>~</p><p>A few months later, Jaskier was making rude jokes with Lambert, a sharp-dressed gentleman who was supposedly a lawyer but might also be mafia, at Jaskier and Geralt’s wedding. Eskel, who was apparently Lambert’s civil partner, was more rumpled in his denim shirt and corduroy trousers over muddy boots--but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a more refined sense of humor.</p><p>Geralt’s ex had showed up with a toaster and drawled, “This is what people give just-married people, right?”</p><p>Jaskier, thinking about the two toasters already in the modest pile of presents, still managed to smile and thank her.</p><p>The ceremony had been brief, but the party afterwards had been going for three hours. Jaskier was enjoying Geralt’s family and friends; mainly rough folks who worked heavy manual labor jobs, but some were friends from Geralt’s group therapy. For the last hour, Jaskier had been insulting Lambert and Eskel cheerfully, while learning about them and their lives, and they had been insulting him back while asking questions about him. At one point Lambert tried to intimidate Jaskier, but he just booped Lambert’s nose and cooed about how cute he was until Lambert smacked him. Eskel had cackled at his partner’s scowl.</p><p>Jaskier’s family had not shown up. Typical. And none of his school friends wanted to associate with him after that run of bad luck. Regis came, but Regis was just looking for a new sugarbaby.</p><p>About when Eskel and Jaskier started flirting, solely to make Lambert mutter and frown, Ciri approached Jaskier and tugged his jacket. Her hand was still in a cast, which she had covered with cat stickers and rainbows, but she had absolutely refused to be left behind.</p><p>“Mommy, I’m tiiiired,” Ciri whined, rocking back on her heels. “When can we go?”</p><p>Jaskier smiled and picked her up, and she snuggled her face into his collar. “In a bit, love. It’s not quite eight. Also I have to finish convincing your uncles that they’re missing out now that I’m married.”</p><p>She giggled and squirmed a little, then asked, “Is that why Daddy is mad?”</p><p>Jaskier, Eskel, and Lambert looked over to where Geralt was talking to Regis, his face carefully blank. Jaskier hummed, and said, “Maybe. Shall we go claim him?”</p><p>Ciri nodded vigorously.</p><p>So Jaskier strolled over to Geralt, Ciri on his hip, and when Geralt and Regis looked at them, Jaskier drawled, “Sorry, Reg, I have to remind my husband how much I love him,” and kissed Geralt thoroughly, smirking at his smug little hum.</p><p>Around eight, Ciri started getting truly cranky. The party broke up, with everyone saying goodbye specifically to Ciri and mostly ignoring the happy husbands. Lambert said goodbye, shook Ciri’s hand solemnly, then grabbed Jaskier’s face and kissed him. Geralt promptly punched his brother.</p><p>Going home was nice. Ciri fell asleep in the car, and only grumbled a little when Geralt picked her up and carried her to bed, humming softly. Jaskier smiled and ferried the presents inside.</p><p>Picking up the toaster from Yennefer, Jaskier frowned. It was rather heavy for a toaster. Far too curious to leave it alone, Jaskier grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the tape holding the top flaps down.</p><p>Inside the box was a plethora of collars, mostly plain, but several with ruffles, lace, studs, or rings on them. At the bottom of the box was a heavy book and a silk rope. Jaskier’s face was burning, but he picked up the book anyway.</p><p>“BDSM for Beginners,” he read, and winced. He wasn’t really into BDSM… but Geralt would look adorable in that pink ruffly collar with rhinestone hearts. There was a note under the book in the box; he picked it up and read it.</p><p>
  <em> To Jaskier -- put Geralt in the pink ones, it brings out his skin tone. Or the amber/gold ones, for his eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To Geralt -- claim that man before Eskel steals him. And remember what I said about tying the cord too tight. </em>
</p><p>Jaskier put the note down and covered his face with his hands. There was no one around and he was still embarrassed.</p><p>“Jaskier? What--is that Yennefer’s present?”</p><p>Jaskier nodded.</p><p>Geralt came closer, looked into the box, and groaned. “Damn it, Yenn,” he muttered. “Let’s go to bed. We can deal with… that… in the morning.”</p><p>Jaskier nodded again and stood. He thought for a moment, then grinned wickedly, stepped closer to Geralt, and murmured, “You know what would be a good wedding present? You, naked in bed, wearing just one of those pretty pink collars, cock hard and lubed up…”</p><p>Geralt growled and dragged Jaskier into his arms, kissing him fiercely. “You in that red one with the black lace,” he rumbled, and Jaskier felt a little bit faint, as he laughed breathlessly.</p><p>“You know what? Let’s compromise. We’ll both wear one without clothes. Good?”</p><p>Geralt kissed him again, and murmured against his lips, “Fuck yes.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you would like to read more of my commission work, the tumblr blog is of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog! Thank you for reading!</p>
<p>(I Crave Comments, They Are The Ultimate Serotonin)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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